


Baby Whisperer

by EzraTheBlue



Series: Promnis Valentine's Week 2020 [7]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Medical, Developing Relationship, First Meetings, M/M, Meet-Cute, No War No Magic No Royalty, medical drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:22:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22809334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EzraTheBlue/pseuds/EzraTheBlue
Summary: Ignis is the newest doctor at the most elite NICU in Insomnia. As he settles into his new position saving tiny lives, he meets Prompto Argentum, a volunteer there to nurture tiny hearts. As the two of them care for their patients in the ways only they can, Ignis begins to discover that his heart longs to be nurtured, too...(Promnis Valentine's Week Day 7: Free Day)
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Ignis Scientia
Series: Promnis Valentine's Week 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1633150
Comments: 15
Kudos: 108
Collections: Promnis Valentines 2020





	Baby Whisperer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ScarlettArbuckle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarlettArbuckle/gifts).



> This one's for Scarlett! She's been the big proponent of this whole event, and this fic was based off a plotbunny she pitched and that I snowballed. I wanted to write this for her as a thank-you for putting this together, and also because she's awesome. 
> 
> The original idea was of Prompto as a Baby Buddy volunteer in a NICU, and Ignis as a NICU doctor. I hope everyone enjoys!

**Baby Whisperer**

Insomnia General Hospital was the finest in the region, and Ignis was honored to have been accepted there for his first official position after his internship placement. Ignis looked forward to taking this position and making it a springboard for the rest of his career. He hung on Chief of Medicine Caelum’s every word as they toured the hospital, envying the elite equipment in the cardiology ward, the brand-new outfitting in the ICU, the state-of-the-art oncology ward, and the architectural plans for the expansion of the orthopedic surgery ward, already on tenterhooks for the day he would become a part of one, or any, of them.

However, he was beginning at, ironically, the beginning.

“Our NICU, Dr. Scientia.” Dr. Regis L. Caelum, a smile pricking at his kindly mouth that suited his crinkled, wise eyes and salt and pepper beard and mustache, halted at the door to the NICU to put some hand sanitizer on, then opened the door to the ward as Ignis did the same. “I cannot overstate how eager we are to have a young doctor of your caliber joining us here.” Ignis stepped through the door, expecting to be greeted by the sound of shrieking infants and the stench of diapers, and anticipating regret.

Ignis had hoped his multiple specializations in cardiology and biochemistry would make him desirable in the cardiology ward. He had hoped being the summa cum laude valedictorian at Insomnia Royal University would set him up to join the research oncology team. Instead, he had been hired into the NICU.

It wasn't that Insomnia General's NICU was neglected. No, contrariwise, it was perhaps the best-equipped NICU in the world. However, he took issue, albeit quietly, with the neonates themselves.

Ignis loved children, yes. He wanted to adopt his own someday. However, babies were the least interesting kinds of children, the most troublesome, unable to communicate (though at least that meant they couldn’t lie), and their problems usually no worse than colic or idiotic parents, from his point of view. He had not wanted to work in the NICU.

And yet, as he entered the eerily quiet ward, busy with only the sounds of nurses at work, heart rate monitors, the hiss of oxygen tanks and very distantly, a plaintive, reedy cry, Ignis wondered if he hadn’t judged too soon.

“Our smallest patients,” Dr. Caelum remarked warmly as he approached a window into one of the rooms. There was a tiny plastic bassinet standing alone in each room, with a tiny little purple-pink baby in each, all squirming and writhing in their diapers, kicking and jiggling. They were all hooked up to monitors strapped on their wrists or into their chests. Nurses seemed to hover in every room, checking IVs or administering medicine. The first one Ignis caught a glimpse of had fresh surgical stitches on his tiny chest. Ignis felt a little cold on the inside. This had been the other side of the coin when it came to working with babies - nobody ever thought of babies getting much sicker than a fever. Infants in an Intensive Care Unit were much sicker than that. Ignis did not want to spend every day fearing for the lives of infants. Infants weren’t supposed to die.

But then, he had accepted his lot, and the contrapositive: he would keep them alive. 

“We are the most elite NICU in the whole city, arguably in all of Lucis,” Dr. Caelum continued, sobered but proud as he walked down the ward. Ignis could recognize how much that meant to him. “We have thirty beds here, and rarely are any of them empty. Premature infants, especially those with severe complications, are sent to our hospital from other nearby hospitals. We also specialize in infant oncology, so we do have a few slightly older infants present. We’ve diagnosed and treated cardiological issues, orthopedic irregularities - those caused by birth injuries or genetic malformations - as well as deformities and other assorted complications that can befall an infant at birth.” Ignis furrowed his brow.

“I suppose a doctor here would need to coordinate with the other branches of the hospital in order to arrange for the best care for these patients.” 

“Precisely, Dr. Scientia. Given your qualifications, I immediately saw a man who could do that, and who could monitor our patients for all of these conditions and discern new developments.” Dr. Caelum put an arm around his shoulder, personable and diplomatic. “You’re a perfect fit for this position.”

Ignis put on a smile. It wasn't all bad, no. Doctor Caelum clearly held him in high esteem if he was starting Ignis in what was clearly a favored ward. He would get a chance to prove himself in multiple disciplines. He still was not in love with the idea, as good of an idea as it was, but it was his reality now. After all, he’d accepted the offer, less than palatable as it was.

No use crying over spilled milk, Ignis reminded himself. Make the best of it. Prove yourself here.

Dr. Caelum led him into the ward to meet some of the senior doctors, but as Ignis crossed the ward at his heels, he noticed someone who was not a nurse in one of the ward rooms: a young man in a punkish, tattered jacket covered in rock band patches and studs with wildly styled blond hair was sitting in one of the wards with one of the tiny babies in his arms. He was wearing a paper mask and a paper apron, but Ignis could tell he was smiling as he bounced and jiggled the tiny little thing in his hands. Despite himself, he cracked a smile: surely, some young father or perhaps an older brother to one of these unfortunate babies, here to bond with the little one in a moment of peace. Hospitals were places of humanity, first and foremost, where so many moments of life took place, great and small.

Ignis had become a doctor to save lives and give people more happier moments. Watching the young man hold the baby was a fantastic reminder of that.

* * *

Ignis’ first duty was making the rounds between wards, and every patient in the ward needed to see a doctor every other hour. Ignis was assigned as the lead doctor for five infants at a time, but when he was on duty, any baby could become his responsibilty at any moment. The babies were consistently monitored by nurses every hour, fed every three, changed every two. Ignis was there to check healing surgical wounds and look for patterns or changes in their life signs, examine, observe symptoms, diagnose, and treat. 

However, the most significant thing he noticed on the first morning of rounds was that blond man again. He was sitting in a different ward, in a different room. holding a different baby. The moment Ignis recognized him, he made for the security button. However, just as he went to hit it, the young man spoke up:

“Oh, no, that’s for calling security. If you hit that you’re gonna make the whole hospital scream.” Ignis’ eyes went wide, and he turned to the young man, apoplectic, to see him completely calm, sounding pleasant and unthreatening despite his suspicious behavior. “You'll scare the daylights out of Juliana here if you hit that. If you’re looking for the comm system, there should be a speaker at the nurse’s station.” 

Ignis scowled, and cut through the artifice: “Who are you and what are you doing with that infant?”

The young man gasped, and he carefully stood and returned the infant to her bassinet. “You must be the new junior doctor! I’m sorry, I guess nobody told you.” He moved the paper gown he was wearing to show a volunteer badge that had his photograph printed on it, wearing the same styled hair and a big, boyish grin. “My name is Prompto Argentum, and I’m a Baby Buddy here.”

“A Baby Buddy,” Ignis repeated flatly, as Prompto grinned and smoothed his paper apron back down. 

“Yeah.” The baby Prompto had been handling suddenly let out a little whine, and Prompto turned his attention back to her and reached into the bassinet to tickle her belly. “See, we get a lot of babies who come to the NICU here from other hospitals in the city and even outside of Insomnia, sometimes. So, we might, like, helicopter a baby in from really far away, and the baby is here, but their parents and families have to drive in from, again, really far away.” Ignis frowned, but Prompto’s expression was peaceful as he turned his tickling into gentle tousling. “So, some of these babies get their moms and dads coming in for a couple hours every day, and that’s great. But sometimes, their parents can only come on the weekends. The nurses and doctors here are giving them medical care and stuff, but they usually don’t have time to give them love and attention, or to play with them. That’s where I come in!” Prompto thumbed his chest, and Ignis could see him smiling under his mask again. “I come here every day, whenever I can, really, and I hold them, play with ‘em, change their diapers if there’s a sudden need, help feed the ones who can take bottles. They need doctors, sure, but they also need someone to just love ‘em.” 

“Ah.” Ignis snapped his fingers as he caught on to what Prompto was saying. “So, while I tend to their medical needs, you tend to emotional needs.”

“Yeah!” Prompto beamed. “You got it in one, Doctor-” His eyes (cornflower blue, bright and observant) darted across Ignis’ chest to his ID card. “Ignis. Doctor Ignis.” He extended a hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Ignis gingerly shook his hand, and Prompto stepped back, peeled the glove off, then went to grab a fresh one.

“With that cleared up, and you not calling security on me, I’m guessing you’re here for rounds. Is it okay if I stay here, or will I be in the way?” He pulled the glove on, and Ignis didn’t miss the way Prompto’s gaze flashed back to him. 

“Hm.” Ignis watched as Prompto pulled his fingers into the end of the glove, considering him. He looked like a punk, and he talked casually and simply, but he seemed to know what he was doing, completely confident with the baby and vigilant about hygiene. “As long as you can return a patient to me quickly, I will not object to your presence.” 

“As you wish, Doc!” Prompto bowed, then returned his attention to the baby and spoke in a small, sweet timbre: “Hey Juju, big bro Prom-prom’s gotta go now.” He reached down and played with the baby’s hair a moment longer. “Me or Noct will be here to see you tomorrow. Be good for the Doctor.” 

He tickled the baby until she cooed, and Ignis saw her tiny little feet kicking outside of the bassinet, heard a reedy, thin shriek, and Prompto skipped out, removing his gloves and sanitizing his hands on the way out. Ignis frowned to himself, then hurried to the baby’s side. The baby wasn’t crying; she looked content and peaceful.

Ignis couldn’t help a little surge of pride at seeing the happy baby, then went to examine her surgical wound and go about his business.

* * *

Gladiolus, an old friend and former medical school colleague, was the consulting surgeon for the NICU and pediatrics, but he’d also been working at Insomnia General for a year longer than Ignis. As such, Ignis trusted him most, and after the daily surgical consult, going over upcoming planned operations for the patients in the ward, he had enough faith in Gladio’s judgement to ask:

“The, er, Baby Buddies.” Ignis glanced around the corner past the nurse’s station where the two of them had pulled up chairs, ensuring that Prompto was nowhere nearby, then returned his attention to Gladio in his shrimp-patterned surgical scrubs (as Gladio favored patterns that Ignis often found ridiculous, but that their younger patients found charming). “Is that normal?”

“The Baby Buddies? You mean just having them here?” Gladio’s eyebrows rose, but his face split in a grin. “Oh, yeah, for sure. My baby sister Iris volunteers at a NICU closer to our house, two hours a week.”

“Ah.” Ignis nodded.

“Yeah, the NICU here is really serious about it. Some hospitals only have a few volunteers for a few hours a day, but Dr. Caelum encourages at least eight hours of volunteer coverage in the NICU every day, and we usually get way more. We also have volunteers come into the geriatric ward daily, and activity leaders and entertainment in pediatrics. It’s sort of a whole-patient-life care thing.” He shrugged. “Being in a hospital, especially for an extended stay, ain’t exactly good for the soul, even if it’s necessary for the body.”

It made perfect sense. Ignis still couldn’t help but pry: “Have you met any of them? I was wondering if you were familiar with Prompto Argentum.”

Gladio laughed. “Blondie? Yeah, Prompto’s a good kid. He’s been volunteering here since he was in high school, from what some of the senior doctors tell me, and I know for a fact he's usually here four to six hours a day." He gave a casual shrug. "Honestly, if I see him, I don’t worry about the babies so much. Kid’s a baby whisperer.”

“I see.” Ignis rubbed his chin. “I suppose I should be encouraged, then, if I see him.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t worry about him. He knows his way around the NICU better than most of the doctors by now. He helps out as much as he can, best as he knows how, and knows when to give the doctors space.” Gladio winked and nudged Ignis’ arm. “He won’t get in your way unless you want him to get in your way. Either way, he knows how to put smiles on faces, if you know what I mean.”

Ignis found himself blushing, then cleared his throat. “I’ll take you at your word. Very well then, I’ll think no more of it.” 

Gladio chuckled through his nose. “Think about him as much as you like. Trust me, there might be days where you need a smile on your face.”

Ignis snorted, but crossed his arms. “I’ll take that under advisement. Same time tomorrow, then?”

“Sure.” Gladio gave a quick salute as both of them stood. “I’ll remember to bring you a can of Ebony.”

“I see that working with you truly has its _perks_. You have my thanks,” Ignis replied with a wag of his eyebrows and Gladio laughed as they parted ways.

With that, Ignis was resolved and reassured that Prompto wouldn’t be a problem, only an asset and perhaps even a boon.

* * *

Ignis crossed with Prompto more than a few times over his first few weeks, always seeing him bouncing a tiny little baby on his chest, pacing and rocking an infant who’d been restless, helping give a bottle to a baby who was having trouble latching onto a nipple. Ignis envied his patience and boundless compassion. Even when a baby had been fussy and whiny for half an hour with him, Prompto would coax and coo, cajole and comfort until he was setting a content, quiet, peaceful baby back into the warm plastic bassinet. 

Ignis found himself having a much harder time. Ignis found that babies did not enjoy being prodded even with the gentlest fingers, did not enjoy having thermometers tucked into their mouth, under their arm, or into their anus. Babies wailed over his examination of their surgical stitches and bawled when he tried to test their flexibility. Sometimes they’d cry at the touch of his stethoscope or soil themselves the moment he went to pluck them from their beds, or spit up onto his chest when he was trying to put them back down. 

Prompto got that sometimes too, but instead of the immediate frustration Ignis knew he always felt, Prompto took it in stride and immediately made to resettle the baby, changed their diaper or cleaned up any spit-up, and talked to them cheerfully the entire time. Prompto never seemed to stop smiling. 

Ignis envied that attitude. 

Fortunately, Prompto shared.

He was in a ward with a set of premature twins. Prompto was giving a bottle to baby A, as Ignis evaluated baby B. A was contently on Prompto’s chest, sucking at a bottle as Prompto told her the story of the Three Little Pigs. Ignis, meanwhile, was trying to do a blood draw on baby B to evaluate her jaundice. The moment he touched the needle to her tiny arm, she’d shriek and squirm, knocking the needle from his hand. Ignis took a breath, counted to ten, then went for a clean needle. As he returned, baby B was still wailing, but as he went to hold her down, Prompto suddenly stood up, pausing his story but maintaining his even, pleasant tone of voice:

“May I?” Ignis noticed that the bottle was empty, and baby A was still secure in his arms. He gave a nod, and Prompto set baby A down in the bassinet and slid up to baby B on the examination table. “Hey, sugar, is Doctor Iggy trying to give you a little poke?” He tickled her cheeks, then her belly. Ignis nearly protested aloud at ‘Doctor Iggy,’ until Prompto scooped baby B into his arms and propped her on his chest, her heart next to his, and patted her back with his palm. She coughed and hiccupped a few times, then calmed, and Prompto shifted her in his arms, exposing the area Ignis had sterilized. “I’ve got her securely,” he said to Ignis, still using the voice meant for the babies. “How about you come and take the draw right now while she’s got big bro here?”

Ignis didn’t protest, but moved in with a clean needle. Prompto had her wrist precariously pinched in his fingers, and Ignis got easy access to the vein and stuck her. Baby B screeched, but Prompto shushed her and kissed her little head through the mask, immediately bouncing her as soon as Ignis was clear and had put a bandage over the stick point. 

“Atta girl! That’s all, all done!” He was smiling, Ignis could hear it, it came through in every sing-song word that Ignis could hear over her crying. “You think Doctor Iggy is okay with me putting you back with your sissy?” He shot a glance at Ignis, who nodded as the baby's crying waned under Prompto's unflinching attentions.

“That’s all for her for now, thank you.”

“See, see how nice Doctor Iggy is.” Prompto chuckled and pivoted, then carefully returned her to her bassinet, settling her right down alongside her sister. “There you go. We’re gonna help you feel all better.”

Ignis felt remarkably better, himself. 

Prompto had been called the baby whisperer by Gladio, and more than a few of the other doctors. Ignis was truly starting to see why.

* * *

Enough time spent around the volunteer miracle worker drove Ignis’ curiosity. He hadn’t taken two specializations because he was satisfied with the knowledge he had, after all. He found that he wanted to know just what made Prompto tick.

“I hear you’ve been doing this since you were in high school?” Ignis asked him one day, as Ignis reviewed the heart monitor ticker and Prompto settled in over a bassinet with toys and rattles coming out of his apron pockets. 

“Yup! Ever since I got adopted again. Oh - uh - long story.” Prompto shrugged a little, then continued rattling a set of plastic keys over the bassinet opening. “My parents - like, from the first time I got adopted - there were… issues. Then I was in foster care, and then I got adopted again, and my new adoptive dad thought that the baby care thing would help me kinda, y’know, resettle.” 

“Oh.” Ignis wasn’t entirely sure what to say to that, but finally came up with, “Your second adoptive father was a wise man.”

“Thanks! He’s a pretty good guy!” Prompto grinned, jingling the keys a little more sharply. “It helped me a lot. It was like, all these babies, they’re in here, all alone and probably scared. I kinda get what that’s like, except I was older and able to handle it a little better. They need someone who can help them through, and it makes me feel really good that I’m that someone.”

“Admirable. You’ve made a positive of what sounds like a negative.” Ignis smiled wryly, then went on with his business.

His business, and the fact that Prompto's history was none of his, didn’t stop him from pulling up Moogle on his break later that same day and searching for “Argentum, child abuse,” news stories from the last ten years. A cursory examination of local news records revealed a case of a man and woman by that name in Insomnia arrested for child neglect, a malnourished, sickly teenager whose name was not revealed being removed from their home after not showing up to school for days. A teacher had raised the alarm when the school was unable to get in contact with the young man, who had also recently documented falling grades and reports of unusual behavior. The power and water had been turned off for non-payment. No food was found in the home. The boy's condition was only described as "stable," but his fate never was made public.

Ignis regretted the knowledge, but if that abused teenager had truly turned into this vibrant, cheerful young man, he fiercely admired Prompto all the more for coming out of that horror story still smiling.

If that was where Prompto came from, Ignis found himself still curious over where he was now, other than 'happily changing diapers for eight hours a day.'

“Surely,” he asked Prompto another time, “playing with babies isn’t your only job. Are you in school?”

“Do I look that young?” Prompto laughed a little, but didn’t stop bouncing and playing with the thirty-week preemie waiting for surgery to repair his heart valve. “Nah, I’m a photojournalist! Or, you know, I would be, like, professionally. I work with the Guard, actually. I’m technically part time right now, building up my portfolio documenting their events for the Crownsguard Weekly Report until I can get full-time work at a bigger agency or a newspaper. I take all the photos of the ceremonies and stuff, and I supply any recent photos of Guard events or personnel to the news agencies." Prompto kept bouncing without stopping nor changing his tone, as it didn't matter what he said so long as the babies heard pleasant noises. Still, he was smiling with cheer and pride under his paper mask. "If you ever see, like, a photograph of someone important in the Crownsguard in the Insomnia Sun Daily, check the photo credits!”

Ignis did. The next time he read the newspaper, he found an article mentioning Marshal Cor Leonis making a statement about a crackdown on racism in the Crownsguard ranks, and checked the photograph credits. Sure enough, the credit read: _“File photograph courtesy Crownsguard, taken by Prompto Argentum-Leonis.”_

It was a well-taken photograph too. Ignis was certain Marshal Cor Leonis didn’t smile for anyone yet Prompto had somewhat captured the illusion, though Ignis couldn’t help but notice they shared a name. 

Sometimes, Ignis didn’t have to ask in order to find out more. He happened to spot Prompto entering the ward one morning with another young man wearing a volunteer badge. The other man was dark-haired and sullen, he walked with a slight limp, and Ignis was certain he recognized him - the sallow-faced son of the Chief of Medicine, who briefly came into the public eye fifteen years ago after a horrible accident that required advanced surgeons to be flown in from around the world to save his life and ability to walk. Prompto, however, talked to him without pretense, just his usual cheer, and a young man who Ignis could never imagine smiling had let a grin slip into place as they talked. Prompto’s talent for spreading happiness obviously didn’t stop at babies. 

Ignis kept an eye on Noctis Caelum and Prompto as they made their rounds. Prompto was good for playing with lonely babies, while Noctis just picked up the restless, colicky babies and would settle into a comfortable chair and rock them until they slept. He would usually fall asleep until Prompto would wake him and move him along to the next. 

Ignis did ask him about that: “Are you friends with Dr. Caelum’s son?”

“Dr. Caelum's - oh, you mean Noct?” Prompto was taking a coffee break, and he almost snorted his three-sugar, two-cream coffee out of his mug. “I met Noct here, he was sleeping in the lobby and I woke him up ‘cause I was worried about him. He was always stressed out, he said. He’s in medical school, he told me he wants to be an orthopedic surgeon, since the orthopedic surgeons here are the reason he can walk, you know? I turned him on to volunteering with me, so he can unwind a little! The babies are less stressful than the rest of his life.” Prompto sipped his coffee. “He needs a good place to relax, and he likes that he’s still helping out while doing it. So, I introduced him to volunteering, and he introduced me to Justice Monsters V, and now we volunteer during the week when he's between classes and game on the weekends.” Prompto beamed. "It's a great trade-off! We both win!"

Ignis found his heart burning just a little more for Prompto. As he moved on with his day, he found Noctis in the ward he was about to enter with a tiny baby who’d been struggling to digest meals and failing to thrive, sitting in the armchair and almost asleep. He winked one eye open when Ignis came in, and blinked both awake a second later. “Oh, you must be that hot doctor Prompto mentioned.” He was gruff with sleep, but his mouth slid into a cheeky grin. “Yeah, I see what he means. You need me to move along so you can help baby Nero here?”

Ignis opened his mouth a moment, but didn’t trust himself not to ask ‘Prompto called me what?’ Instead, he snapped his jaw shut, recomposed himself, and tried again: “Er, yes. I may be who Prompto meant, and I do need to check Nero’s vitals.”

“Got it.” He stood and carefully transferred the baby to his bassinet, tucking him in. Nero didn’t wake, and Noctis stroked his head. “Okay, good luck.” With that, Noctis moved along, and Ignis watched him go.

His imagination was still replaying ‘hot doctor’ over and over in his mind, in Prompto’s earnest voice. 

* * *

Ignis was not truly tested until baby Miracle arrived. 

Miracle was given his nickname, awaiting a legal name from his surviving family, due to the nature of his birth: his mother was twenty-five weeks pregnant when she, with the rest of her family, was in a horrible car accident, and he was spontaneously delivered when her body was recovered. He was premature, his tiny body was battered from the trauma of his mother’s injury, and his future was uncertain. He had no surviving family except an uncle that lived near Cape Caem. That he was born alive at all was a miracle, and when the infant was delivered to Insomnia General by helicopter, it was the NICU’s job to ensure he remained alive.

Insomnia General’s NICU hadn’t seen such an extreme case in years, but Dr. Caelum wanted to ensure the miracle of this tiny life persisted. 

First and foremost was stabilizing him. Ignis was not his lead doctor, but he was in charge of monitoring his oxygen intake whenever he was on shift, as his tiny, half-formed lungs struggled to breathe. He weighed hardly two pounds at birth, and kept losing ounces every other day. He aspirated feedings and would cough and choke, making the most horrible shrieking noises that could come out of a body. Ignis noticed even Prompto cringe when he would feed him and the baby would inhale his formula. 

He worsened as the days passed. His APGAR scores were low to begin with, but he didn’t improve for days. His reflexes were nonexistent. His color was awful, greyish-purple. He’d develop bouts of apnea, he’d stop breathing for nearly thirty seconds sometimes, and his bed alarm would wail, waking half of the ward. Nurses and the doctor on duty would flood the room, as Prompto and other volunteers hurried to calm all the wailing infants. He developed a fever a few days in, and Ignis and the other doctors had to track his temperature to prevent brain damage and monitored his blood work closely to ensure he didn’t have some internal injury going septic. He didn’t pass solid waste for the first week of his life as his intestines went necrotic, and Gladio’s team was called to intervene on his patent ductus arteriosis, to keep his tiny chest from flooding with fluid in the empty space between his heart and lungs. 

Ignis was constantly on his toes. He had a ward full of twenty-nine other tiny patients, five of which were his daily primary responsibility, yet this tiny creature had become a monster that loomed like a shadow over the entire unit.

There was light, however. Prompto.

Prompto never exhausted. Prompto knew Miracle had no living family except an uncle who was urgently trying to arrange to care for a sickly infant and to come to Insomnia himself, and his enormous heart bled for a lonely, sick child. Prompto made time for Miracle daily. Ignis knew Prompto made at least half an hour in his rotation just to hold and talk to this particular infant. 

When Miracle stopped breathing in his arms, Prompto would check his heart, then rub and pat his back until he let loose a rattly screech and remembered to breathe. When he had his high fever and cried inconsolably, Prompto sang every lullaby under his breath every moment they could spend together. After his surgery, Prompto gave him a gentle bath in a plastic tub and dabbed the blood from around his staples. 

Miracle vomited on him between bouts of wailing, spewing what little formula Prompto had coaxed into him all over his paper apron. Prompto just changed the apron and tried to feed him again. Miracle’s first semi-solid waste was passed onto Prompto’s chest. Miracle coded on Prompto once; the ward lit up when his heart monitor flatlined, and Prompto helped perform heart palpitations until his heart remembered to beat.

Prompto never stopped speaking in that gentle, sing-song voice he used for the babies. Prompto never stopped smiling, even as this newborn almost died in his arms. 

(This was a lie, of course, because Prompto did stop smiling for all of fifteen minutes. Ignis found him hiding behind a vending machine near the nurse’s station bawling into his palms. Ignis didn’t talk to him, but he did make him a cup of coffee, three sugars and two creams, exactly the way he liked it, and sat beside him and put one arm around his shoulders. Prompto grabbed his other hand and cried with Ignis’ arm around his back, slowly slumping to lean against him as his sobs waned. Then, when he was out of tears and his sobs dissolved to hiccups, he put the smile back on, whispered a soft "Thank you," and went to change his apron. He sucked his tears back and returned to all of the other babies that needed him.)

Together, they persisted.

Ignis was the last doctor to touch Miracle in Insomnia General’s NICU after a month of dedicated care, listening to his steady heartbeat, recording that he’d gained three ounces in the last two daysl. He tested his reflexes, satisfied as his tiny pink foot flexed when prodded. Prompto swaddled and dressed him for his trip home, easing his foot into a terrycloth onesie and tucking a knit hat from another of the volunteers onto his head. 

“Your name is Otto now. I’m told it means fortune, in, like, Niflheim,” Prompto whispered to him, as Ignis watched from outside the ward. “You be good out there. There’s lots of people who want you to do good.” He scooped the tiny baby up, who made an unhappy little squawk even when Prompto kissed him between the eyes. “Everyone here wants you to be happy.” 

Otto smiled his first smile in Prompto’s arms. 

All of Prompto’s patience and tolerance paid off with that one curve of gummy lips, and Ignis saw real, true delight bloom in Prompto’s expression then and there. 

Ignis could heal broken bodies, but Prompto was the one who nurtured tiny hearts, and Ignis’ own heart felt warm just thinking of him.

_Oh,_ he realized, still marveling at Prompto’s warm expression as he cradled that tiny baby, and wondered if Prompto’s big heart had a corner left for him.

* * *

Ignis wanted to be responsible. The first thing he did was, at the tail end of one of their morning briefings, ask Gladio:

“Are there rules against hospital staff making romantic overtures towards the volunteers?”

Gladio, in his noodle-patterned scrubs, pulled a wide-eyed expression that somehow made him look more ridiculous. He blinked twice, then stared into his coffee mug as if he wasn’t sure it was real. Ignis scowled as Gladio sniffed it, and even deeper as he confirmed: “Yep, this isn’t drugged, now can you repeat that?”

Ignis heaved a sigh. “Are hospital staff. Such as, for example, doctors. Permitted to court the volunteers.”

Gladio, eyes wide, took a long, long sip of his coffee, then stared into it again. Ignis groaned and slapped Gladio over the table with his clipboard. “Gladiolus, kindly be serious!”

“One of us has to have fun.” Gladio grinned, shoved his mug away, and slid his chair around to Ignis’ side of the meeting room table. “No, no, I gotta hear this! Who? Wait. Don’t tell me.”

Ignis huffed out a disgusted sigh. “Pr-”

Gladio was already howling: “Prompto! It’s Prompto! I knew it!” He sobered after a moment, smoothing his hair back. “Uh, yeah.” He cleared his throat, and his voice dropped an octave. “I’d thought you’d’ve memorized the employee behavioral code, but I guess you probably never thought you’d have much to worry about in that regard.” He leaned in and spoke a little softer: “Look, there’s nothing saying explicitly ‘don’t,’ but there’s a whole lot of stuff about hospital propriety. There’s no romantic stuff allowed on the hospital campus. This includes PDA, asking out on dates, taking or exchanging intimate photos on hospital property, you get my drift. I’m pretty sure a janitor got fired for asking a nurse her number. However, as long as you can keep it to yourself and keep the actual hugging and kissing to not-in-the-hospital, you’re free and clear.”

“Ah.” Ignis nodded with understanding. That did limit his opportunities. All he truly knew of Prompto was his enormous heart, his interest in photography, his ability to befriend even the prickliest young men, but all of that was from his time in the hospital. Ignis had no idea just where he would find Prompto outside of the hospital, or the Crownsguard base. 

Besides that, he had to know for himself if Prompto was interested in him in the same way. Prompto thought him handsome, yes, and the way Prompto had clutched his hand in his moment of need lingered in his memory.

Ignis would have to use whatever resources were at his disposal to find out. He dearly wanted this. 

* * *

Ignis was a doctor. He looked for signs and symptoms, and he diagnosed based on his observations.

Under the paper apron, Prompto wore band logo shirts, and he could be seen entering and leaving wearing a battered black denim jacket with a logo for a popular punk group. However, more than a few times, Ignis would see him swap them out for shirts featuring video game characters or characters from popular cartoons. Ignis had his suspicions that he didn’t just wear them because they looked nice. His suspicion was confirmed when he caught Prompto reading out of a comic book during his coffee break.

Perhaps he would reserve tickets to the next big comic book movie for the pair of them, even though he found such adventures droll. He'd enjoy it if he went with Prompto. It may have been better to invite Prompto to an arcade, as he found a certain enjoyment in games that tested his reflexes. He even considered going to the local arcades to see if he might chance to encounter him there.

However, he worried that Prompto wouldn’t find it feasible that Ignis had simply showed up at an arcade, and that assumed Prompto did game at arcades.

Ignis decided to try to brainstorm other approaches to cure his lovesickness.

Ignis scoured the behavioural code to try to test the limits thereof. Sure enough, as Gladio had said, there were rules against propositioning one’s co-workers. However, there were no rules against talking to their friends to try to get clues.

The next time Ignis saw Noctis, he adjusted his rounds to ensure that he reached the baby Noctis was taking a nap with before Noctis woke up and moved on. He came in and found Noctis almost completely asleep with his hand covering the baby’s back. Ignis knelt near him and gave his shoulder a careful tap. 

“Noctis?”

Noctis winked an eye open. “What’s up, Doc?”

Ignis smiled wryly. “For a young man who became notorious for rioting against carrots on his hospital tray while recovering from extensive orthopedic surgery, I’m not certain you wish to evoke that rabbit.” 

Noctis scrunched his nose, then eased up to his feet with the baby still held to his chest. “Yeah, guess you’re right.” He trudged over to the warmed bassinet and laid the baby down, adjusted the monitors, and turned to Ignis. “Uh, she took an ounce from the bottle about half an hour ago. Might wanna try her again in a little bit. I put the time on the clipboard.”

“You have my thanks.” Ignis smiled and checked over the readout of the heart monitor. “I did want to ask-”

“Oh thank the Six,” Noctis groaned, and took a folded sheet of paper out of his back pocket with handwritten lists of addresses. Noctis began to point at different columns: “Here’s a list of his favorite arcades. He goes without me sometimes, usually on Tuesdays and Thursdays, ‘cause I have late classes.” He pointed at another set of addresses. “Coffee shops. If he’s got a photoshoot, he stays close to the base, that's the first one on the list. The second is where he goes on his way to the hospital. I listed a few other places you might see him outside of here, but please, for Eos’ sake, _ask him out._ ” Noctis shoved the paper onto Ignis’ chest. “He moons about you every time we hang out.” 

Ignis sputtered, then failed to summon actual words as he pocketed the list and Noctis made a note on the baby’s chart. Finally, Ignis composed himself enough to ask: “Every time?”

Noctis smirked and rolled his eyes. “On and on, how handsome you are. He loves your stupid little sarcastic jokes. He likes how hard you work, he’s impressed. He just keeps it professional because the babies are important to him.”

“Oh.” Ignis put a hand over his mouth, then ran it down to the list in his breast pocket. He had an opening. He had at least an inkling that Prompto liked him in return. He just had to make his move.

* * *

Now that Ignis had committed to approaching Prompto, one way or another, the universe seemed to conspire against him to prevent him from actually doing it.

First, one of the other doctors went on emergency leave, and Ignis was asked to take a few longer shifts to ensure there was constant coverage. What time Ignis did have off was cut short. However, Doctor Caelum thanked Ignis personally for his dedication and all the extra hours he put in, so Ignis was at least reassured that his efforts were being noticed. 

Then, Prompto had some sort of assignment with the Crownsguard and was away from the hospital for a week. When he returned, it was with rolls of film he’d taken shooting a training exercise, and a thousand questions about how the babies had been while he was away. He asked after each one by name (confirming to Ignis that he did, in fact, know each baby by name), then looked at the roster on the rotation wall and noticed something:

“I don’t recognize these seven!”

Ignis smiled wryly in response as Prompto scanned over each name. “You wouldn’t. They’re new. Would you believe history was made here while you were gone?”

It was during the week Prompto was away that something momentous happened: Insomnia General became host to its first set of septuplets. 

“Oh. Em. Gee.” Prompto’s face split into a wide beam. “Seven new babies, all at once!”

Ignis’ smile stretched thin and wan, and he stared into the middle distance. “Indeed.”

Seven new babies, all with their own individual needs, setbacks, and struggles. And five of them were under Ignis’ direct supervision. 

Ignis was on-call, at Doctor Caelum’s request, and found himself called in more evenings than he wasn’t, attending to emergencies, codes, feeding struggles, sudden developments. Every dip in their condition warranted his attention and assessment. All five of them had their struggles - jaundice, dysplasia, their heartrates were irregular, they failed to breathe. Ignis wouldn’t let them die, wouldn’t leave them in pain, and would do whatever was asked of him to keep them alive.

After six days of working sixteen hour shifts and sleeping in the hospital tending to all five of them, and still checking on the other two and the rest of the babies under his supervision, laying in the on-call room and trying to get a few hours of sleep before his next shift, Ignis began to wonder why he’d become a doctor in the first place. He dismissed that thought, then wondered if he could possibly have a life outside of being a doctor.

Lives depended on him, he said to himself, how could be bother having his own? What right did he have to have his own wants when others needed him? 

When he woke, someone had left him a cup of black coffee and a pastry in a paper bag from a local coffee shop, and a note in messy handwriting: _“Do your best today!”_

Ignis’ heart panged with want, and he put the note in his breast pocket. Prompto had already learned how he liked his coffee. 

If there was anyone who would understand Ignis’ devotion to his job, it was Prompto. But Prompto deserved better than what Ignis could offer around his job, didn’t he? 

Ignis couldn’t decide if Prompto was a dream he should just push aside for the time being, or if he should try to make the jump, take the chance, _try_. It wasn’t a question he could answer just yet, he thought.

He never really did have a chance to find an answer, either.

* * *

It was a typical afternoon. Ignis had recently marked six months since beginning at the hospital, and he’d hardly overcome the exhaustion that came from dealing with the septuplets. He approached the nurse’s station for a fresh cup of coffee, and noticed a familiar head of blond hair and a punkish jacket. His heart felt light as he circled the desk to say hello, only to sink when he actually took him in. Prompto was slumped in one of the nurse’s chairs, staring down at his phone. For the second time Ignis could remember, he wasn’t smiling. “Prompto? Is something the matter?” 

“Oh! Um, Doctor Ignis.” Prompto quickly stuffed his phone away. “I’m sorry, I know I’m not supposed to - um, let me get back to-”

“Prompto?” Prompto was making to stand, and Ignis furrowed his brow. “You haven’t answered my question.” He crossed his arms over his chest, as Prompto halted mid-motion. He sighed after a moment, then took his phone out.

“I, um, got offered full-time work.” He showed Ignis an email he’d received, and Ignis skimmed the subject line and the first paragraph to see the Insomnia Sun Daily offering him a full-time position as their events photographer. “Forty hours a week, benefits, everything. It’s everything I could have ever asked for.” His breath hitched, and Ignis realized his eyes were red all around the edges.

“I… I see. I must congratulate you for the offer, yet you do not sound especially happy about it.” He returned Prompto’s cell phone to him, and Prompto’s hand trembled as he accepted it. “Is there something wrong with the job?”

“Huh? No!” Prompto pulled his face into a smile, but it was harsh and stiff. “The job’s great! It’s fantastic! But…” His face fell. “I’ll have to basically stop volunteering.”

Ignis felt like he’d dropped his heart onto the floor as Prompto’s chin dropped to his chest. “I… I just won’t have time. I’m so sorry! I’m going to miss the hospital, and the babies, and the… and everything! But I need a full-time job if I’m going to get anywhere in life.” 

Ignis wished he could contradict Prompto, but it was true. He needed full time work of some sort, it was unorthodox for a man in his twenties to be living with his father. Prompto probably wanted to strike out on his own, be independent. He’d told Ignis he wanted to be a photographer full-time, but he loved volunteering.

“I will say that you very much are somewhere in life,” Ignis said, as gently as possible, and he paced a few steps as he thought. “However, you are right that this would be an advance for you. Another step.” He sighed. “And sadly, a step forward often means one must leave something behind. While I cannot speak for volunteer services, you would surely be welcome whenever you could make time.”

“I… I’ll do my best to come whenever I can.” Prompto took another deep breath, then stood straight. “I’m going to accept it. But… I’m going to miss you.” He looked right at Ignis, eyes wide as he realized what he’d said. “I mean! I! I’ll… miss the hospital, and the babies. And… I’ll have to say goodbye to everyone.” Prompto quickly hurried past Ignis and away from him, as fast as his feet could carry him.

Their paths didn’t cross for the rest of the day. Ignis wondered if Prompto was avoiding him, but Ignis knew he couldn’t let the day end without at least one more encounter.

At the end of the day, Ignis waited at the door to the ward for Prompto, and stood stark straight as he approached. Prompto’s brow wrought up as he came closer, but Ignis held the door for him.

“I’m sad to see you go, but it would be an honor to walk you to your car.” 

Prompto bit his lip for a second, then put on a smile and walked past Ignis. “Thank you, Doctor Ignis.”

Ignis walked at his side, their fingers just brushing as they moved, but Ignis couldn’t bring himself to speak to him aloud. Prompto seemed to gradually slow their walk as they reached the elevator, and he even seemed to hit the buttons in slow motion.

“Hey, um.” Prompto bit his lip as the door shut. “It… this won’t be the last time. I promise, I’ll be back.” 

“I believe you.” Ignis smiled, though his mouth felt spread too thin. “I’m certain the ward will fall to pieces without you to hold us together.”

“Nah, no way! They’re lucky to have you.” Prompto beamed at him, and Ignis’ heart panged. “I’m glad they have you. You’re a really good doctor. You’re dedicated.” Prompto patted his arm. “I hope you stick around for a while! The babies deserve the best, and now they have you.”

Ignis’ chest clenched, but he managed to put on a smile. “I appreciate you saying as much. I’ll do my best for them in your stead.”

“I’m glad.” Prompto smiled so broadly his eyes crinkled, and Ignis was certain he’d cry, until the elevator door opened.

They didn’t talk again until they were outside of the hospital, and Prompto was on the crosswalk. He turned around as Ignis lingered a few feet back, teetering on the brink of making another move, but still hesitating. However, Prompto did turn back and put on a big smile.

“I’ll see you when I see you, okay? Keep on keeping-” Prompto stopped mid-word, as Ignis stared at him, through him, into the distance. “Hey, Ignis? Doctor?”

“You can just call me Ignis.” Ignis hadn’t realized how watery his voice would be. His vision was getting blurry around the edges, eyelashes wet. “I… I would prefer…”

He tried to shake himself out of it. No crying over spilled milk.

That reminder did him as much good as telling oneself not to cry ever did, and Ignis, exhausted and bereft, was suddenly crying like a child in the middle of the street. Tears dripped from his eyes, as his mouth uselessly, silently worked, and Prompto gasped.

“Hey.” Prompto stepped back up onto the sidewalk, opening his arms, voice going soft. “Come here.” He gathered Ignis in his arms, wrapping him up in an embrace. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay, I’ll be back, I’ll come back, okay?” He was speaking sweetly, sing-song, so gentle that it nearly abraded Ignis. “I’m going to miss you. I meant it when I said that. I’ll miss you a lot.”

“I’ll miss you too,” Ignis blurted. “Please, I - I don’t want to - I want to-”

“Shhhh.” Prompto hushed him a few more times, stroking his back with a firm palm, and Ignis suddenly understood why the babies Prompto held were always soothed and happy. “It’s okay, it’s going to be okay…” He exhaled slowly. “Please don’t cry, you’re so strong and smart.” 

Ignis finally let a soft sob out onto Prompto’s shoulder. “That... doesn’t mean I’m not occasionally... emotionally vulnerable." He gathered himself and tried to string his sentiments together. "I’m sorry - I simply - I was overcome at the thought of never seeing you again.”

Prompto chuckled softly, the noise curling warm in Ignis’ breast. “I get it. It’s okay." He patted over Ignis' chest, right over Ignis' breaking heart. "But you will see me again. Promise.”

“I… I should hope so.” Ignis breathed in deep, stood upright, and dried his eyes as Prompto withdrew his hand. He steeled himself, knowing it was now or possibly never: “However, I fear I cannot risk waiting too long. Prompto, before you go, may I please ask for the honor of your company for coffee and cake this weekend?”

Prompto’s eyes went wide. “You’re inviting me out for coffee and cake?! Like-”

Ignis glanced down quickly. They were just over the line of hospital property. Perfect. “As in, a date." He put a hand across his chest, feeling his own heart pound. "I would like to get to know you outside of the hospital, and preferably without paper gowns and masks.”

“That sounds really great.” Prompto took and squeezed his hand, sounding unsteady and emotionally fraught himself. “I, um, I’m off nights and weekends nowadays? Just let me know when you’ve got time.”

“Fantastic. Let’s begin at the beginning, shall we?” Ignis smiled, and though his eyes and face still felt hot, he was bubbling over with joy on the inside. “Your phone number, please.”

As Prompto held Ignis’ hand tight with one hand and gave him his phone number with the other, Ignis couldn’t help but reflect on the past months with Prompto. He wondered how long he would have tolerated his new position without him, if he would feel the same affection for his smallest patients without Prompto's smile to encourage him. Despite his initial misgivings, he found nursing the babies rewarding, and he found Prompto's encouragement and help to be no small part of that evolution. Now, it was his turn to find out what made Prompto smile, because as easily as he smiled, nobody deserved happiness more than him.

As they stood at the foot of the hospital, each on the precipice of their new path, Ignis felt as warm and content as he had the first time he saw Prompto. This, too, was merely another moment of humanity, small in the grand scheme of the world, and yet immeasurably enormous in his own life. 


End file.
